Creative Corner: Local Artists for December 2021

Creative Corner: Local Artists for December 2021

Thumbnail image by Tithi Luadthong from Pixabay

Are you an aspiring writer, poet or artist? Or maybe you want to try your hand at any of the above? We want to share your art! Read directions on how to submit your creative work below:

For submissions: Send your short story or poem (150 words or less) or a photo of your artwork to with the words “Creative Corner” in the subject line. Please include which Florida city you currently live in to ensure that your work will be published in your local edition. Artwork must be before the 15th of every month, otherwise it will be held as potential news for the following issue’s publication. Include your name, phone number and address. Work is published on a basis of what space is available. 

Creative Corner Submissions for December

“Words” by Theresa Loder

We can read them
We can say them
We can sing them
We can play them

We can write them
We can think them
We can type them
we can ink them

We can meditate
Conjugate, abbreviate
Or disseminate

We can hear them
we can use them
we can find them
We can lose them

We can keep them
We can tweet them
and quite possibly
Even teach them

Words can hurt



And heal


“Youth” by Theresa Loder

The grass was so green
The sky was so blue
Fluffy white clouds
Ground covered with dew

Thunder and lightening
An afternoon shower
Steam off the pavement
A field of wild flowers

Sunday at the beach
Fried chicken in the car
Washed down with lemonade
Light bugs in a jar

We ran down the streets
With cans on our feet
We rode our bikes on the rims

We carried marbles
In an old coffee can
We played all day
In a circle of sand

We rode buses
We flew kites
Played in the rain
Knew wrong from right
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

“A Child Was Born” by John M. Alexander

I wasn’t there.  I certainly don’t know. 
Judea in winter might have had snow. 
The date’s not important like the weather that morn. 
All that I know is that a Child was born.  

This God-man Child, Savior of all 
Who will die on a cross and send us the call 
To love one another: The sick and the cold, 
Kids burned-out on drugs, and the destitute old, 
The hungry and homeless begging dimes on the street. 
He’s begging us, too, but our eyes never meet.  

He says to us all: “Before your life’s through  
Try loving each other as I have loved you.” 
“Kindness comes natural. Indifference is taught.
It’s the soul of your life.   
With My blood it’s been bought.”  
I wasn’t at Calvary or  
Bethlehem on that morn. 
All that I know is that 
A Child was born. 

“Oh, Cookie” by John M. Alexander, aka “Sarasota John” 

I love you, Cookie. 
What do you think of that? 
I love you. I love you. I love you 
Even though you make me fat.  

I know you haven’t long silk hair 
Or kissable pouty lips. 
No warm soft skin. 
No deep brown eyes. 
But, you’ve got chocolate chips!!  

You never complain. You never nag. 
And by you I’ll never be kissed. 
But, calling me from your cookie jar 
I simply can’t resist.  

I run to you. I jump and shout. 
I’ll come with leaps and bounds. 
I’m yours, all yours for ever more . . . . 
Plus an extra fifty pounds. 

“The Kings” by John M. Alexander 

They came by night across sands and time  
By the star, like a magnet, guided. 
They found love and life and the newborn Christ,  
Their lives' greatest joy provided.  

They found the child, the chosen one, 
While I in failure, have sought 
To discover Him and His forgiving love  
And the redemption His blood has bought.  

But I hear the kings and their camel bells, 
their hymns across vale and dune. And know 
that He is near me now, That I too, will find 
Him soon.  

And I see Him now in the eyes of friends, 
In my children, and the eyes of a stranger. 
I find Christ now, in my life today, 
Much more than a child in a manger.  

And he lives through me, each day that I 
breathe, Through countless sunlit Springs.
For I have seen his distant, glowing star And 
I've heard the ancient kings.  

“Little Tyke’s Christmas” by Ann-Marie Stenhouse 

Little Tyke was so excited, learning they will be going to Gram and Grampap’s house for dinner. He loved that old house. It was in the country, with lots of snow and woods to roam. Only problem was the bathroom was way upstairs; it had a tub with “claw feet.” Gram would let him play with her collection of whittled wooden dogs she kept on a shelf over the fireplace mantle. Grampap took to whittling when he got old. Maybe after dinner, Grampap would take him to visit The Lodge and see all the raccoon-hunting dogs. They would howl seeing a raccoon run up a tree. Later, a nice nap with Grampap before heading home. Gram would pack up lots of leftovers for Little Tyke and his mom and dad. He looked forward to working on a puzzle from his grandparents this year. Another wonderful Christmas; he was very full and happy.

Merry Christmas to All!

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

“Holiday Poem” by Paula Timpson

Soft snow 
Evening's glow 
Morning's dance 
Deer are entranced  
By the light  
Holiday lives  

“The Early Years of Youth” by Carl Norman Johnson

The early years of youth 
I remember so very well. 
Tho’ they are gone, my 
memory holds them still. 
Through middle years, 
and golden too, passing by 
with time; I sat and watched 
them go. 
Now, in thinking, a tear arrives, 
not in sadness, but with joy; 
that I still remember all with 
love, with no regret, recalled!


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